Blindside
by aphtrashbin
Summary: Italy has made a choice- to do what his best for his country, rather than stand with his friends and allies. He can only hope he has done what is right for himself in backstabbing them.


_**April 26**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 1915**_

Two brothers looked at one another with uncertainty. They knew what they had done was invariably the best decision they had made for _their_ shared country.

"Thanks for your cooperation." A refined cover for an extremely oily and personality smiled at them, poisonous green eyes shining with satisfaction, sated on the knowledge that these two had switched sides, and would cause a rift to form within the enemy, the Triple Alliance.

The alliance that was before the two brothers, the one that the two had just finished agreeing to join- their signatures formalizing their government's documents, the Treaty of London, informed the two so that they would know that they would have to maintain appearances to their previous alliance. It would be hard, Italy thought quietly.

Prussia, who often acted as a good friend to Italy and despite Romano's complaints about him, supported the older brother as well. Austria was not going to be missed incredibly, but Hungary, the lovely woman, was truly being slandered by the Alliance they had just joined, and more than that, still gave her rations to the younger nations, to "keep up their strength". Germany, that young boy that had just been formed, Italy would have to ignore that he looked like Holy Rome, and go along with whatever the Triple Entente had in store for him.

In place of the people he had known for so long, Central Europe, he had Great Britain, a right asshole who was a strong-arm, putting them in a political chokehold to get their terms settled. France, who when not in war was nice enough, was as old and animalistic as several others, greedy and pacing as he waited for the opening to punish Prussia and his allies. Russia, who was scary enough as a man, but in all honesty, looked on the verge of internal collapse. His boss needed to get his things together.

The two brothers, the Italian Peninsula, they had decided to forsake their allies, and friends, in place for a secured place at the end of…all this. A war meant to be over by Christmas, as he was told by England; but there was no end in sight. Each state underestimated the other, Prussia and Germany misjudged the resistance the Triple Entente would put up, and the Triple Entente misjudged the strength of Central Europe.

Italy and Romano could only hope now, now that they had played both sides, they had chosen the right one, as now that they had betrayed their original side, there was no regaining their trust in this war.

XXXXX

 _ **May 23**_ _ **rd**_ _ **, 1915**_

Italy took a deep breath in and out. Romano was in the armies headed off to Austria.

They had declared war on Austria-Hungary. It was done. They had yet to declare war on Germany, and so Italy was to try and maintain an appearance of being on their side.

He was looking for Prussia, the white-haired nation being the real force in the German state from the personification standpoint. He was directed by troops to the infirmary. Prussia was the only one of the Central Alliance currently stationed on the Eastern Front, his intelligence told him.

The young nation didn't look behind him, to the angry green-eyed troop who glared at his back, removing the hat on their head to have short, thick hair coming out from beneath it, the woman shaking her head and placing her hat back on her head, going around him to the back of the infirmary, taking up her position, waiting for Prussia to make his move.

Veneziano didn't yet know that Hungary had already beaten him to the punch line, and ruined the reveal for him.

Prussia was indeed in the infirmary, drinking from a bottle of whiskey.

"Ah, you shouldn't be drinking, Prussia!" Italy chirped, coming up beside his bed. "You are the head persona for Germany!" He gasped as the older nation turned to him in confusion, before a smile broke out on his face.

The jarring problem was the fact his face was marred to hell, blistered and burned, one eye bulging from his face. "Yo! I totally have the right to be drinking!" He laughed. "Russia's a right asshole, you know that? France probably gave him some of that shit!"

"P-Poison gas?" Italy stammered, taking a step back, covering his mouth in horror. "Will the damage…. be permanent?" He asked in a low tone, gripping his hands as they lowered from his mouth.

The albino laughed goodheartedly. "Ah, Ita, that's the most adorable thing about you! You haven't been on the battlefield in the East yet!" He looked up to him with a smile, Prussia giving him an enigmatic look, analyzing him while he looked him over, a once over with certain _sureness_ behind it. "Anyway, the Battle of the San just ended, I'm told." He shrugged.

"So, if the battle just ended, why are you and your troops moving out?" Italy asked with interest, smiling easily. Prussia didn't look like he suspected anything…this could go over just fine…at least for a few more days.

Prussia grinned at him, "I'm on my way to Artois. Fucking France doesn't know when to _quit_ it." He laughed again, before the mood changed entirely, and he deadpanned, red eyes looking bloodthirsty, rage and betrayal making his smile turn sour. "But I imagine, either way, you won't be joining me there, or anywhere else in battle…at least, not on my side, I'm told."

Italy's blood ran cold, but he was smart enough to dodge when the man leapt at him as a knife that seemingly came out of nowhere was suddenly directed at his throat. However, the Italian nation was caught by surprise when Hungary, her hair cut short, leapt at him as well from behind a few tents. I

taly rolled on the floor to get out of her way, and was backed against the back of the tent by the two _furious_ older nations. He vaguely remembered the two of them when they were all children- Hungary and Prussia had been mean and were _innate_ fighters. Even when they knew there was no point, they would keep on until ordered otherwise.

That meant there was only one option for him.

He only felt slightly bad that in his panic he took out his gun quickly, and before they noticed, shot Prussia through his bad eye, and when Hungary looked to her fallen friend in shock, shot her as well, straight through her head.

Italy shook, looking at Prussia's shocked face; his bad eye having burst and was currently oozing, and Hungary, fallen beside him, her face alarmed and betrayed, but frozen in death.

He dropped the gun, tears welling up in his eyes, stammering out an apology to them, and to God in heaven, before he ran. He didn't stop running until he was in the hands of Alliance soldiers, some confused Frenchmen looking at this Italian and being uncertain of what to say until the nation introduced himself as an Alliance spy…

Which, the younger nation thought as he looked back to where the Camp was hidden, wasn't that far off.

There was no going back, was there?

XXXXX

 _ **May 24**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 1915**_

He had just returned to his brother's side, now at the newly opened Isonzo front on the Austrian border of Italy, when the news came that Germany had cut off all diplomatic relations with Italy. That was fine. It would be easier now, since he wouldn't have to pretend to be a friendly allied nation any longer.

With that said…Italy regretted his actions deeply. He had been a coward, and hadn't given the two the fight they had deserved. He had shot Prussia, and then Hungary. The young Germany would return from whatever he was doing and find himself thrusted into war- Prussia had often told Italy that the younger nation did not know how to act in wartime. Italy had forced that now, hadn't he?

Prussia and Hungary, and Austria too…they would all be so incredibly angry with him… Romano slapped him upside the head.

"We agreed on this." He said, firmly. "We agreed this would be the best course of action for our nation. Germany and his allies will lose. And in the meantime, we can get back what Austria had stolen from you." He roughly patted his back. "Plus, maybe I can get Belgium and Netherlands…to not be so angry with me…." He mumbled beneath his breath.

That was right, though. Romano had betrayed Belgium and Netherlands by siding with Germany… He had grown up with Netherlands and Belgium under Spain…

Italy nodded. "Ve! I'm certain that she will be happy to see you're okay big brother!" He smiled, pushing away feelings that somehow that his betrayal of the Triple Alliance was worse than that Romano siding with them to begin with…

It was done now, though. It was truly done, and there was nothing to be said about it anymore. His only hope was to get what he wanted from Austria in war, and then to hopefully make the Triple Alliance less angry with them in the years after the end…

Elsewhere, Prussia and Hungary parted ways, both agreeing to send Germany away from the battles here by sending him to look for Italy…

What they didn't know was that the soldiers that were prepping the young nation were making all sorts of comments about how dangerous this Italy guy must be, to have gotten both the Madame as well as the Commander in the same go, and thereby influencing what would be their first meeting years later.

As far as either the Triple Alliance, or the Triple Entente knew, this war would still be over by Christmas, 1915.

They didn't know what was to come.


End file.
